


Divine Retribution

by satiricalScythe



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale dies and Crowley cries I'm sorry, Fluff, Graphic depictions tag is more to be safe than anything, M/M, No seriously what's a beta reader, Sorry Aziraphale it be that way sometimes, second chapter is now a fluffy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-28 20:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20069770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satiricalScythe/pseuds/satiricalScythe
Summary: In which Gabriel, after the failed Execution, decides to take justice into his own hands. He refuses to watch those two freaks fraternize and gallivant off into the sunset. The angel will be easy, he's naive and gullible. The demon, however, will need a little bit of trickery to get close to. That's fine. He looks forward to seeing the betrayal on the red-haired bastard's face.Unfortunately for Gabriel, he underestimated just how well Crowley knows his angel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, my hand slipped.  
This fic was inspired by two pieces from the wonderful @speremint on twitter! Go take a look!
> 
> https://twitter.com/speremint/status/1155288410648653824  
https://twitter.com/speremint/status/1155302144406360065
> 
> I apologize in advance for any tears you may shed, however do let it be known that I am not responsible for compensation for however many tissues you use.

Blue eyes widening in shock.

The sound of metal through flesh.

Crystalline tears dripping down pale skin.

Golden blood trickling over trembling lips.

Gabriel watched these things with a wide smile, his blade run through Aziraphale's chest. "You," he said, "Have no idea how long I have wanted to do that."

Aziraphale's eyes flicked up to Gabriel. He opened his mouth, then coughed. Blood spattered Gabriel's cheek. "Don't try to speak," Gabriel crooned, his voice a mocking attempt at being soothing. "It will be over shortly. You will only make it worse for yourself if you try. No hard feelings." He smiled even wider. "This is what _She _would have wanted, you know that. You betrayed her the moment you chose that abomination over your own kind. But don't worry, I'll see to him, too."

The Principality's eyes widened all the further and he opened his mouth, a raspy intake of breath getting caught in his throat. He grabbed Gabriel's wrist, his hand glowing. Gabriel gave him a patronizing smile. "Look at you, already too weak to perform the miracle needed to save yourself." His expression twisted into a grimace of disgust. "Now get off of my sword." He jerked the blade from Aziraphale's chest, spilling blood onto the carpet beneath them before pushing the other angel back. Aziraphale fell to the floor, a wheezing noise of pain leaving him. "Don't worry, Aziraphale, his death will be just as swift as yours. Twice as enjoyable for me, however."

As he spoke, his voice warped. Aziraphale watched in horror as his appearance melted, and where Gabriel had stood, a copy of Aziraphale stood in his place. The floored angel's fearful look twisted into one of anger. "Don - Don't you dare - " He choked out, rolling onto his side and struggling to push himself up. "Don't - Don't t-touch him, I swear, I'll - " He coughed, more blood spilling from his lips to the carpet below, and slumped against the floor. Gabriel gave him a distasteful look.

"You're a pathetic excuse for an angel. Be a good boy and die, damn you." The words sent a streak of agony down Aziraphale's spine, almost as painful as the wound in his chest.

He had to do something. He had to save Crowley. He couldn't let that bastard Gabriel hurt his demon. Knowing the Archangel, he would do his best work to torment Crowley before he ever inflicted physical harm.

Aziraphale moved and pain lanced through him. Gabriel's blade, that of an Archangel, had pierced through to his very soul. This wound was one far too deep to miracle away, and when he died, it wouldn't be a matter of inconvenient discorporation.

No, when he died, it would truly be the end.

His vision was already starting to go dark. Were it not for his being an angel, the holy essence that was a part of his very being, he would have been dead already. As it was, he didn't have much time. He needed to think, needed to find a way to save Crowley before...

But it hurt so _much._

_Crowley. I could use a spot of help myself now, my dear. You've always been there when I've needed you. I wish I could say the same._

_Oh, Crowley, I'm so sorry._

Satisfied with his struggling, Gabriel turned on his heel and made his exit from the back room he had cornered Aziraphale in.

The Principality touched some of the blood pooling beneath him and flicked his wrist. Miraculously, the golden liquid left a nasty looking splatter on one of Gabriel's pants legs. Somehow, he didn't notice.

As his vision went dark, Aziraphale prayed that his demon would be a bit more attentive.

The last thing he heard was the sound of a bell from the front, and a cheerful voice calling out that familiar nickname as Crowley looked for him.

༄✧༄

"Angel!" Crowley called, forcing himself to sound cheery even as he struggled to keep his anxiety down. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his gut. Now, this wouldn't be the first time his instincts had told him to check on the angel - he doubted it would be the last, either. However, there had been multiple occasions where this same feeling had led to him saving the foolish angel's life.

(The image of his angel, shackled and slated to be beheaded, flashed behind his eyes. Many years later, in London, his angel staring down the barrel of a nazi's gun. His train of thought was brought screeching to a half by the realization that he had just called Aziraphale "his" angel twice. He swiftly pushed the thoughts away.)

(But he didn't correct himself.)

"Angel, where - oh!" He had started calling again, only to break off when Aziraphale came from the back room, looking started to see him. His angel stood, alive and well and completely safe. The lack of danger had his racing heart soothed. "There you are. Fucksake, Angel, you scared the livin' hell outta me. It's been a couple thousand years since the last time you were late." Crowley huffed. Aziraphale looked confused.

"Late? For what, my - dear?" Aziraphale faltered over the words. Crowley looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but ignored the stumble. "Late for our meeting, Angel, We were supposed to go down to that new restaurant that opened up, you've been crowing about it for _ages._" Realization flashed across Aziraphale's face.

"Oh! Oh, yeah, right, of course, I knew that's what you meant. Oh, I'm - sorry, I completely forgot all about that, do forgive me, dear, I was awfully busy, terribly busy. I just, ah - I got new books, see, needed to get them sorted out. Really distracting, figuring out where to put them all."

Crowley's eyebrow returned to its raised position. "Having trouble figuring out where to put them? Usually you have more trouble trying to put them down in the first place."

A brief expression of panic that Crowley didn't quite understand flitted across his angel's face, but Aziraphale recovered quickly. "Oh, I read them all already, see, couldn't find it in me to put them down. That's why it took so long for me to find a place for them, of course." The angel waved a hand dismissively, but Crowley frowned. "Are you feeling alright, Angel? You're being awful... fidgety."

Aziraphale's hands, which had been waving about as he spoke, stilled. "What? Fidgety? I'm not more fidgety than I usually am, dear, really. ...Though..." Aziraphale turned and Crowley glanced downwards, already making up excuses to himself, but the gold on Aziraphale's calf had the excuses already dying in the back of his mind in favor of paying attention to that. What was that, paint? Aziraphale didn't paint. Perhaps he had visited one of those galleries he had mentioned, and...? No, that didn't make sense. Aziraphale always had some sort of... He always _knew _when something was off. Crowley didn't know what it was, but Aziraphale had some strange instinct for it, and would always complain about having to fix it. But he _would_ fix it. So did he not know the stain was there? Or...

"I suppose I'm just nervous." Crowley looked up just as Aziraphale turned around again, his thoughts pulled from the gold. Crowley blinked. "Nervous? You? Well that's a new one." Aziraphale shifted, his hands behind his back as he shuffled his feet. He almost looked... bashful? Shy? Crowley wasn't sure, but it definitely had his attention. "Oh, don't tease me, dear. I have something important to tell you." He looked up at Crowley through his lashes and the demon was almost positive that his heart stopped for a moment.

"Alright, Angel, what's this all about?" He inquired, tipping his head to the side. "First you're late, then you're acting off, now you have something to tell me? What's going on?" Aziraphale's eyes flickered and Crowley fought the urge to narrow his eyes again, maintaining his own expression. "Do be patient with me, this is incredibly difficult." Aziraphale stepped towards him. "You see..." They were less than a foot apart, now, and Aziraphale reached out to place a hand on his chest.

"We've known each other for a long time now, dear - how long has it been, far too long. And in that time, I..." Aziraphale seemed to struggle to continue. Instead his arms slid around Crowley. His expression was soft.

It didn't reach his eyes.

Something was wrong.

Crowley saw the glint of the blade as he glanced over his shoulder and shoved Aziraphale - no, shoved the imposter away. The way this thing moved, as though he wasn't used to his body, the way he talked as though he wasn't feeling the words, the way he kept fidgeting like he was uncomfortable, the golden stain on the leg of his pants when _Aziraphale would never let that slide_. This was not Aziraphale. Immediately, Crowley reached out, feeling for that presence that he had always been aware of, always felt, every day since the beginning, since that day six-thousand years ago, so used to his presence that he always felt it in the back of his mind. He had finally figured out what felt so wrong.

That presence was gone.

_Aziraphale_ was gone.

"Where is he?" Crowley hissed, his fangs lengthening and his forked tongue flicking. Not-Aziraphale looked disgusted and disappointed. "I had been hoping that would work. It would have been pathetic, your face as you were killed by the angel you cared so much abou - "

Not-Aziraphale found himself slammed against a bookshelf before he could finish his sentence, his holy blade falling from his hand. "**_Where isss Azsssiraphale?_**" The demon snarled in Not-Aziraphale's face, fury in his slitted, golden eyes. He had miracled away his sunglasses, putting his rage on full display.

Not-Aziraphale's form melted, shifted, and then it was a different angel being held up against a bookshelf. "I'm sure you know that answer to that, fiend," Gabriel spat. "He couldn't be allowed to continue on, not after he spat in the face of the Almighty, the Ineffable Plan, and all of his brethren in Heaven."

"_**Answer me or I swear I'll dessstroy you right fucking now.**_"

For the first time in a long time, Gabriel felt fear rush through him. He hid it well, giving a scoff. "He's gone, demon. For good. And you will soon follow."

Gabriel was in the air before he knew what had happened, Crowley having thrown him across the room. "You **_LIAR!_** You're lying!"

"Lying is for demons." Gabriel got to his feet, dusting himself off, only to find himself on the floor as Crowley tackled him to the ground. The demon's skin was flecked with black scales, his wings flared out behind him. His claws tore into Gabriel's shoulders, golden blood spilling onto the ground below them. "**_I'll tear you apart, you BASSSTARD. You took him from me. You took my best friend! You vile creature, you're no better than the demonsss you claim to despissse._**"

Gabriel stared in shock, because the demon above him, currently shredding the shoulders of his mortal body, was crying, tears spilling down his cheeks. Demons didn't cry.

Demons _couldn't _cry.

"You **_took him from me,_**" Crowley snarled, pitch-black wings pulling up around them, isolating himself and Gabriel from the world. Gabriel understood at that moment that nothing could save him from the wrath of the creature above him, not even his own might.

"You're a **_damn _**fool, Gabriel, have been since before the bloody fall. But even you're not blind. You knew of my feelings for him. Used them against me. You knew I loved him more than you've loved everything in your entire **_FUCKING_** life." Crowley curled his lip, and his voice dropped. "**_And ssso you mussst know that God and Satan themselves will quake in terror after they hear of what I did to you._**"

"Your threats don't scare me, demon," Gabriel scoffed, though his heart raced. "Do your worst."

The realization that something was wrapping around him made him look down. The body of a snake, pitch and crimson, coiled around his body, squeezing him tightly and restraining his movements. The snake's body blended into Crowley's - no, it _was_ Crowley's, the demon in a state of half-transformation. His hands were clawed, one buried in his shoulder and the other hovering above Gabriel's heart.

"Oh I will," Crowley promised, and then he plunged his hand into Gabriel's chest. The angel screamed. Pain more forceful than he'd ever felt swept over him and Gabriel gave a sob. What was happening? His mortal body had been through far worse punishment, so why did this feel like the very Sun had bloomed in his chest?

"You have shown Wrath," Crowley begins, eyes narrowed. "That's a sin, you know. One of the worst ones, in my opinion. Tell me, what sort of angel murders his brother? And isn't that a rule, somewhere? Thou shalt not kill, and all that? Seems like a demon thing to do if you ask me." Realization swept across Gabriel's face, followed by fear, but then he scoffed. "I know what you're trying to pull, demon, and it won't work. You will not make me Fall."

"Oh, I won't make you do anything. You did it to yourself."

"I have done nothing but act in accordance with the Almighty's will!"

"She told you to murder Aziraphale in cold blood, did she?"

Gabriel spluttered and Crowley continued, eyes cold, "No, you did that yourself. You were not told by God to pursue Aziraphale and I. You did that yourself, because you were angry. You were furious that you didn't get the war you so desperately desired, and you were embarrassed by us. You _chose,_ Gabriel, and you chose wrong." It was at that moment that Crowley found what he was looking for - something that rested on a completely separate plane. "Do you know how it feels to have your grace ripped from you, Gabriel?" Crowley hissed. Gabriel's eyes grew wide. "No, wait, please - "

"Because I do. It's the worst suffering you could ever _imagine,_ scaled upwards in the _trillions._ You've inflicted it on plenty, haven't you? Ripped the grace from the bodies of angels and flung them down to hell?"

"Please, don't - "

But this angel had taken the one he loved, taken his Angel, his Aziraphale. Crowley knew, though he didn't want to believe it, he knew, deep in his very soul, that he could never get his angel back, and it was Gabriel's fault. Gabriel had killed him, murdered him.

"What did you do to him, Gabriel? Where did you leave him? On the side of the road like trash? In some restaurant or another?"

"I - I stabbed him, I ran him through with my holy blade, and left him - there, back there, please, I - I'm begging you, don't take my Grace, please, I don't want to fall - "

"You know the worst part about Falling, Gabriel?"

Gabriel stared up at the demon with wide, fearful eyes, helpless.

"The only time an angel falls is when they believe that they deserve it." Crowley tore Gabriel's grace from his body with a savage snarl, flinging it across dimensions. Elsewhere, a completely new Sun formed, eventually catching planets in its pull and creating life.

Beneath him, Gabriel screamed in agony, writhing as his very essence seemed to burn and a void opened inside of him.

"It looks like you believed you deserved it," Crowley scoffed, because he hadn't been lying. Each and every angel who had become a demon, having been told by beings that were closer to them than any two humans could be to each other, that they were vile and evil, had begun to believe it, believe they didn't deserve the Grace bestowed upon them, and changed to show it as they were flung from Heaven.

Gabriel was in more agony than he had ever known to be possible.

Crowley had no intentions of leaving it there.

Snakes were not meant to tear into their prey. Their fangs were made to latch on as they devoured it whole.

Crowley was not a true snake.

He sank his claws into Gabriel's body, tearing into flesh and ripping him apart. When Gabriel's wings flared, now stained with black, Crowley ripped them from his back. "Go to hell," Crowley hissed. "They'll be waiting." He ripped and tore until the screaming stopped and the Archangel ceased moving.

Having thoroughly discorporated Gabriel, Crowley returned to his normal form and got to his feet. "And while you're down there, tell them not to fuck with me."

A few miracles and the blood and the body were gone.

He considered leaving it, but a soft voice in the back of his mind mourning the mess made him vanish it. As he stood before where Gabriel had laid, he turned towards the door to the back room. He didn't want to look, didn't want to have it confirmed that the aching hole his angel had filled was empty again.

But he owed it to Aziraphale to...

He took a slow breath and stepped towards the doorway. He moved into the room, taking a slow breath that died in his throat when his gaze found the body of his angel.

On shaking legs he moved to Aziraphale's side, dropping to his knees next to him and gently drawing him into his arms, black wings curling around the two of them.

"Oh, Angel," he said softly, before bursting into tears. He held his angel, his love, his Light, cradled in his arms, pressing their foreheads together as he sobbed. "Aziraphale - Aziraphale I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry my love. If only I had been sooner - I should have known, I should never have... I'm so sorry, my love," he sobbed, holding the angel tightly to him.

Agony tore through him, worse than Falling, because he had just lost everything. He didn't care about his flat, his car, this world. Hell, without his angel, this world wasn't worth living in. He had been fully prepared to abandon the Earth to run away with his angel, and when he had thought Aziraphale was dead he had completely given up any hope of even running.

Now Aziraphale really was gone.

Crowley had lost everything.

He allowed Aziraphale to rest on the floor, laying beside him and pulling him close. He closed his eyes as he held the body of his love against him. He would pretend, for a little while, He would pretend, for a moment, that everything was alright, and that when he opened his eyes he wouldn't have to bury his love. He would pretend, for a moment, that his tearful face and hitching breaths were due to a nightmare, and that his angel had simply fallen asleep on the floor, and that before that Crowley had been allowed to curl up beside him. He would pretend, for just a little while, that everything was okay, and when he opened his eyes Aziraphale would smile at him, look at him with eyes bluer than the sky and twice as beautiful, and say his name in that lovely, breathless voice.

Crowley had always been very good at pretending.


	2. In Which I Couldn't Resist Doing A Happy Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't do it to 'em and I'm not sorry. I want you to know that I started writing this without a game plan I just started writing and kept writing.

_A soft smile._

_Lovely blue eyes, twinkling brighter than the stars above._

_A warm hand holding tightly to his own, a joyful voice saying his name._

Crowley was astounded by how empty the world could seem when your other half, your better half, the love of your life and your true joy, was no longer in it with you.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there with Aziraphale, but when he sat up he was stiff and aching. Aziraphale's blood still soaked his clothing (unlike humans, the blood of Angels was pure and wouldn't coagulate into a sticky mess), and after a moment of hesitation, a few miracles put the blood back where it belonged. Crowley rested his hand over Aziraphale's chest, the wound from Gabriel's sword sealing itself as though it had never been there. "Good as new, Angel," he whispered as he repaired Aziraphale's treasured suit.

As Crowley looked down at his love, he found it hard not to lay back down, to go back to pretending. It would be all the easier now that they weren't laying in a pool of Aziraphale's blood, but Crowley couldn't bring himself to lay down knowing that he would eventually have to get up again, once again suffering the pain of losing his angel. He took a slow breath, leaning down and brushing his lips against Aziraphale's. "What am I to do without you, Angel?" Crowley whispered, brushing his fingertips over the angel's soft cheek. "You're the only one who made any of this worth it. You're the one who made this world worth being in. You're the reason I would have died to save it. We were supposed to live in it together, Angel, that's why we saved it, isn't it?"

No response, of course. But the sound of a bell made him jolt. Dammit, he hadn't locked the door, had he? He pressed one last kiss onto the lips of his angel before getting to his feet, quickly moving out of the room to greet the would-be customer.

A woman stood in the doorway, her gaze sweeping over the room. Blond hair pulled into a braid hung over her left shoulder, and her blue eyes were covered by the delicate-looking frames of a pair of glasses. "Beg pardon, ma'am, I'm afraid the shop is closed today," Crowley said, his voice miraculously not breaking as he adjusted his own dark lenses. "The owner isn't around at the moment." And never would be again, his mind supplied. He forced the thought away.

The woman turned to him, blinking once before her expression became unbelievably soft. Crowley felt warmth envelop him, and he found himself relaxing seemingly against his will. Of course, this only put him on edge.

"I'm not here to shop," she said, and Crowley heard it as much outside his head as in it. Immediately he went rigid, and the Woman before him stepped closer, Her eyes warm and soft. "It's been a long time, my son," She said quietly, smiling gently at him. Crowley nearly fell over, shock clear on his face. This was - This was - 

Rage flooded him and his wings flared out behind him, his expression twisting into one of rage. "**_Get out,_**" he snarled, clawed hands curling into fists. "**_Get out of his shop, you don't belong here, this is his place! You don't get to be here._**" She shook Her head, reaching out to touch his cheek, but he hissed and recoiled. "**_Don't you touch me! His death was as much your fault as it was Gabriel's! Where were you, damn it? WHERE WERE YOU!?_**"

"My son," She whispered, finally getting close enough to touch him, and if Crowley were a fool he would have struck her right then. He was pushing his luck, lashing out at God Herself, screaming in Her face, daring to show his soiled wings in front of Her Grace. But he was angry, so, so angry, that the very Being that had allowed Gabriel to kill his love would dare stand before him in the place that had belonged to his angel. "You know I never wanted this, my child," God murmured, brushing Her thumb over his cheek. "But I could not intervene any more than I could intervene in the lives of humans. That is the price of free will. I swore that I would no longer interfere with the free will of my children, and that includes that of my angels. If I were to stop any of you, to redirect your decisions, would you ever truly be free? You must make your own decisions, my love, be they good or bad or anywhere in between."

"I don't _want _to be free!" Crowley snarled, turning away. "I want my angel back! I want Aziraphale! I love him, damn you, and you let him be stolen from me!"

God stood before him, ever so patient, unbothered by his outburst. "I could not save Aziraphale any more than I could prevent your Fall in the first place, my son. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to see my children turn against each other. I never wanted a war. I never wanted Gabriel to harm Aziraphale, nor did I want you to make Gabriel Fall. But that is the price of standing by. I have not played a hand in any decision made by angels or demons or humans since Creation. If I had, then any joy in the world would have been artificial."

"And pain wouldn't exist," Crowley snarled. God shook Her head. "My son, without pain, is joy worth having? There is a balance to all things in life, and - "

"Stop." She did. "Just... Stop. I don't care. I don't want to have this conversation anymore. I don't want you to be here. Just leave me in peace, damn you. Leave me to my grief."

"And how long will you remain? Until this shop crumbles around you? Until your brethren decide to fight themselves once again?"

"As long as I fucking please!" Crowley turned, snarling in God's face. She was shorter than him, he noticed, and idly wondered if that was intentional. "I will remain as long as I please, be it for a few more hours or until the end of days, I will stay by his side until my own body grows cold or I will bury him tonight, but it will be my decision! That's what you wanted, wasn't it? For us to choose? Fine! I choose to tell you to either bugger off or smite me for my disrespect already so that if I'm really fucking lucky I can be with him, or at least not have to live this pitiful fucking excuse for an existence without him!"

"Is that what he would want?"

Rage flooded Crowley, harsher than ever before, and when he stepped forward, God actually took a step back. "_Don't you **ever fucking presume** to tell me what **he** would want. Six **thousand** years, six **THOUSAND **years._ I prayed to you for six thousand **_FUCKING_** years, and after all that time, all those years radio silence, of **_nothing,_** you dare to show that false guise before me now? Dare to act as though you know what my love would want? You don't get to do that. You don't get to play this game with me!"

When She touched his face, Crowley startled upon the realization that he was crying again.

"I'm so sorry, my love," She said, gently wiping his tears. The fight left him and he bowed his head, a choked sob leaving him. "Just - " He sobbed. "Just do _something,_ dammit. Don't just look at me like that. Don't touch me with such softness. Punish me, damn you, tear my wings from my back, smite me, something, anything."

"You've wanted me to punish you since I walked through that door. Punish you for what you did to Gabriel, punish you for not getting here soon enough to save Aziraphale, for not telling Aziraphale how you felt before he died. But I refuse." Crowley gave another, harsher sob, and She cupped his face, tilting his head up to face her. "I cannot punish you for the free will that I gave you, my child, any more than I can punish Gabriel or Michael or Lucifer himself. It pains me to see you suffering, my dear, but I cannot - no, I will not end your existence."

"Please," Crowley choked. "Please, I can't do this without him. I've always needed him, I've needed him since the Beginning."

"I know. I know, my dear. But I cannot help you." Before Crowley could speak, She continued, "You are the only one who can save him, my child."

"...Save him?" Crowley frowned, confusion clear on his face. "There is no saving him, Gabriel made certain of that. His sword pierced to Aziraphale's very being. It wasn't just his body, Gabriel destroyed him."

"You healed angels long before angels ever took upon mortal forms, my son."

_Lucifer, wounds covering his body from another fight with Michael._

_Theliel, his knees scraped from a rather nasty fall._

_Uriel, embarrassed as he holds out his cut hand._

_Azrael, his ankle twisted._

"That was a long time ago. I'm no healer, not anymore."

"My dear Raphael, you know as well as I do that you never changed at the core.

_The name brought back pained memories, the Fall, the glares of his kin as they flung him from heaven, the disgusted sneers and horrified stares -_

"That is not my name," Crowley snarled, shoving those gentle hands away. "My name is Crowley and I am a demon. Raphael was lost in the Fall. I may have been him at one time, but it has been six thousand years. I lost my Grace with the rest of them. And even if I hadn't, Aziraphale is _dead._ Even as Raphael, even as a healer, I couldn't bring him back. You can't bring back the dead."

"Raphael," God whispered, "Aziraphale is a part of you, as you are a part of him." She reached into Her pocket and produced a small necklace, a white orb on a silver chain. "This is yours," She murmured, almost reverently, as she took his hand and pressed the orb into it. "It has been a long time, and it has weakened greatly, but it is yours, and with it, you might be saved, and with time, it will grow strong again." Crowley felt a jolt in his chest. He knew immediately what it was.

This was his Grace.

It was nowhere near what it had once been. The fact that it could be contained in such a small vessel was nearly pathetic. But it was his, and it knew him as much as he knew it. He could feel it reaching for him.

"You have a choice, my dear," God murmured. "I leave it up to you."

"Choice? What choice? What am I choosing between?" Crowley looked at Her, startled, but She just smiled. "You know the answer to that, my dear." She closed his hand over the orb and pressed a kiss to it. She looked up at him, leaned close. "He has never gone where you cannot follow."

"Wait - !"

He blinked, and She was gone. "No! Come back! You must tell me what you mean! You can't do this to me, damn you, come _back!_"

Just as with the last six thousand years, he received no response.

He gripped the orb tightly, and with a snarl, pulled back his arm to throw it, only to pause when he felt it pulse. He lowered his hand, uncurled his fingers to look down at his Grace. It pulsed once more, and he felt a tug in his chest. 

_You can be saved._

He had his Grace back. He could return to heaven. With his Grace, he could be purified, he could... But there was no point to that. He didn't know why She would ever even suggest that. He would still be without Aziraphale, he would just be in the holier-than-thou shithole that was heaven instead.

_He is a part of you._

_He has never gone where you cannot follow._

He waved his hand and the door slammed shut, thoroughly locking itself as he rushed to the back room. He kneeled before his love, glancing between Aziraphale and his own Grace. Looking at it this way, the decision was easy to make. He took Aziraphale's hand in his own as he crushed the orb, freeing his Grace from its confines. Immediately, a bright white light flooded from his hand, pouring itself into him.

It was sheer agony, pain flooding his very being as the Light attempted to purge the darkness that had overtaken him, attempted to settle back where it belonged.

He forced it back, contained it, redirected it.

_He has never gone where you cannot follow._

_Aziraphale._

Dropping the now empty orb, he pressed his hand to Aziraphale's chest, where his wound had been, then pressed their foreheads together. His wings flared behind him as he searched himself, feeling for that familiar presence, that presence that had been there since the beginning, that he had known since before the Fall, that he had loved for even longer, and when he found it, he latched onto it.

_Where are you, Aziraphale?_

He opened his eyes and Aziraphale was gone. So was everything else. The world around him was a deep gray, brushes of white and black blending and fading here and there. Every flash of white made him turn, but none of it was what he was looking for. He closed his eyes, focusing on just _feeling_ -

_Love, adoration, pain, _

** _Crowley_ **

Crowley jolted, his eyes flying open and - _there, _a blinding flash of white, a single flap of his wings and he was in the air, hurling himself towards it - 

_Blue eyes, a bright smile, a breathless voice saying his name_

Crowley flung his arms around his angel, tears spilling down his face as a confused voice said his name again, wondering what he was doing here, wondering where they were. "I'm awfully confused, my dear, what - oh, darling, why are you crying?" Crowley pulled back just enough to see his angel's face, looking up at him with such wonder and confusion, and all he could do was laugh, a joyous sound ringing in the air. "I'm - I'm just happy, angel, so very happy."

"While I am so very glad to hear that, my dear, perhaps you could explain what is going on? Everything is so blurry, you see, I feel as though I fell asleep, and then everything was slowly fading to black, but something held me in place, keeping me from going any farther." He scrunched his nose in confusion and Crowley fought the urge to kiss him. "It's a long story, Angel, but for now - "

"Crowley, your wings!"

"What?" Crowley glanced over his shoulder, finding the tips of his feathers to be as pure a white as Aziraphale's. "Oh. Well, that was unexpected. Don't get used to it though, Angel, I'm sure that will be gone once we get you out of here."

Aziraphale focused on that. "Where _is_ here, Crowley? What happened?" Crowley bit the inside of my cheek. "Can... Can we talk about it later? I'd... I'd much rather get us home, first." Aziraphale blinked, then softened, nodding. "Of course, my dear."

Crowley pulled away, and it was then that he noticed the gold staining Aziraphale's chest. Gabriel's blade truly had pierced to his very being. Crowley placed his hand on Aziraphale's chest, closing his eyes and focusing. The burning Light within him moved to do his bidding, sealing the wound, and when he lowered his hand it was like it had never been in the first place. Aziraphale blinked, surprised, then smiled up at him, grinning widely and saying his name in that soft voice -

And then Crowley was opening his eyes again, looking down at Aziraphale's face. The angel's eyes were closed, his body exactly as Crowley had left it. His heart in his throat, Crowley cupped his love's cheek. "Come back to me, Angel, please. I need you." He felt the last of his Light leave him, flowing into Aziraphale as he prayed. "Please. Come back."

Those beautiful blue eyes blinked open, the Angel stirring beneath him.

Aziraphale smiled, looking just a little confused, and it was the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen.

He pulled the angel to his chest, a broken sob leaving him. "Aziraphale - Aziraphale, Angel, oh fuck, you're - you're alive, I thought it - I - " He couldn't bring himself to say the words, and instead just let himself cry, clinging to the Angel as though he'd lose him again if he loosened his grip. Aziraphale's arms curled around him in return, and Crowley could feel the angel trembling. "Crowley... Crowley, I... Was that...?"

"It's okay now, Angel. Please, don't worry about it for now. Just... Just don't let go, just let me..." Aziraphale tightened his grip. "I'm here, Crowley, I'm here, it's alright - " And then the angel was crying too, holding Crowley so tightly it felt like his ribs would break, and it was the best thing that the demon had felt in his life.

”You were gone,” Crowley choked, tangling his fingers in his angel’s hair. “You were gone, and the world felt so unbearably empty, I couldn’t - “

Aziraphale shushed him gently, giving him a tight squeeze. “It’s okay, it’s okay, dearest, I'm here now, you don’t have to - “

”No, no, I have - I have to tell you, I need - “ Crowley took a breath and Aziraphale remained silent, letting him collect his thoughts. “Angel, you were gone, and it was worse than before, because I could see right in front of me what had happened, and, I just - “

Aziraphale cupped his cheeks. “Crowley, please, take a moment. You’re hyperventilating.” Crowley sucked in a breath. “Right. Right.” Another breath. A thought occurs to the demon.

”What - what do you remember?”

Aziraphale softens. “I remember enough, my dear, and let’s leave it at that. I remember what Gabriel did and I remember you in that gray world coming for me. You saved me, didn’t you? How did you do it, my dear?”

_You have a choice, my son._

_One chance._

“I saw Her. Capital ‘H’ Her. She gave me my Grace back.”

Shock was clear on Aziraphale’s face. “You - does that mean you’re - “

”No. I used it. I brought you back.”

”What?!”

”It was weak, faded. If I had accepted it within myself the I could have returned to Grace, but I would have been changed. I wouldn’t have been able to bring you back.”

”...My dear, you sacrificed your chance to - “

”It was no contest, Angel. I didn't sacrifice anything. That would imply that I lost something I didn’t want to lose. I couldn’t care less about being an angel or a demon, I care about whether or not I have you by my side. Being an angel would mean nothing if I didn’t have you with me. None of this would.”

Aziraphale flushed at that, looking up at the demon with round, sparkling eyes. “I don’t know what I did to make you think I was worth all that, but - “

”Everything, Angel. You did everything to make you worth that. You _are_ everything. You’re _my_ everything. None of this is worth it without you. That day, when we said ‘to the world,’ all I wanted to tell you was that you _are_ my world, Angel, you - you’re _everything_. I’m nothing without you, nothing _matters_ without you. There aren’t words in any human language to describe - “ Crowley choked and he realized that he was crying again. Aziraphale was staring at him as though he had just hung the stars in the sky.

”I love you, too, Crowley,” he whispered, and Crowley’s heart stopped. Aziraphale laughed softly at the expression Crowley pulled, the sound like music to the demon. “I’m terribly sorry to startle you, my dear, but I thought that that was the closest you would get to saying as much without prompting.”

Crowley blinked. “You knew?”

”Crowley, you know that I can feel love. I just wanted you to tell me of your own accord.”

Crowley was quiet for a moment. “I almost didn’t have the chance,” he whispered. Aziraphale let a hand move from Crowley’s cheek to take the demon’s hand. “You do now,” Aziraphale murmured.

”I love you,” Crowley breathed, exhilaration flooding through him as he said the words aloud. “Aziraphale, I love you.”

The angel seemed to glow as he threw his arms around Crowley’s neck. “I love you, too, you silly serpent.”

”I love you, Angel, I love you so much,” Crowley slipped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, hugging him tightly and burying his face into the crook of his neck. He couldn’t help it, he lifted the angel from the floor and spun him around, laughing joyously. “I love you, I love you, more than the moon and sun and stars, more than the Earth itself. You’re my everything, Angel, my love, my life, my Light, I - “ He was cut off by Aziraphale’s lips on his own, the Principality’s face a beautiful scarlet. 

“Sorry, dear,” Aziraphale breathed when they broke their kiss. “I’m afraid you had me a bit overwhelmed.” He laughed, a little embarrassed, and Crowley grinned, pressing their lips together once again. “If that’s how you get me to shut up,” the demon said, “Then you can do that as much as you’d like.”

Aziraphale laughed once again, and Crowley kissed him, holding his angel and never wanting to let go.

”I can feel you,” Aziraphale said in awe, looking up at Crowley in wonder. “I did my best to hold back, to respect your privacy when I felt your feelings towards me, and I never thought - you love so _purely_, Crowley, it’s so beautiful, and - and that it’s for _me_ of all beings - “ He began tearing up, his expression pure joy.

”If anyone deserves to be loved without remorse, without hesitation, without regret, wholeheartedly and eternally loyally, it’s you, Angel. I love you so much, Angel, so very much.”

”I know, I know you do, it’s - you’re perfect, Crowley, and you must know I feel the same, my love, you - you’re my other half, I adore you with everything I am, you must know - “

”I do, I know that, Angel, I do, I love you so much - “

They kissed again, though who initiated is a mystery, pressing as close as they could get without leaving their bodies entirely, and when they finally parted, they looked at each other in complete adoration. “I love you, Crowley, I love you so much.”

”I love you, Angel, more than anything.”

”Would you stay? For the night, at least?”

”I’d stay forever if you’d only ask.”

”Do not tempt me, you fiend.”

”I’m a demon,” Crowley said proudly. “Tempting is what I do.”

”Well,” said Aziraphale. “I am an angel, though I’d very much like to tempt you with the idea of a night spent canoodling on the couch.” Crowley laughed.

”Canoodling, Angel, really?”

”Well I thought it would be endearing.”

”You were right, actually.” Crowley gave a soft smile. “I would love to spend the night canoodling with you, Angel. Temptation accomplished, one might say.”

Aziraphale’s smile as he pulled Crowley to said couch could have lit the room. “I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured as he lay down, Crowley sprawling himself on top of his angel. The demon held tight to Aziraphale, smiling up at him as their lips brushed against each other once more.

”I love you, too, Angel. More than anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I’m pretty pleased with how this turned out!! Hope it was soft enough to earn forgiveness for the last chapter ;P
> 
> Feel free to scream at me on twitter/tumblr @satiricalScythe!

**Author's Note:**

> The real question is, should I make a happy ending chapter? Not sure how I'd bring Aziraphale back outside of divine intervention (baduntss) but also I just don't know if I can live with myself if I leave my boy to die. What do y'all think?
> 
> Edit: due to popular demand, a good ending is now in the works!


End file.
